Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

Friday was hectic in the office; Lorrie set up a commercial account with one on the international air carriers to get the 40 employees to Africa on Monday. All of them were flying out Sunday afternoon and would not arrive in Africa until almost 24 hours later with layovers in Europe.

All of those employees were scrambling to get last minute personal things taken care of. In a way, we were fortunate that out of the 40 only 10 were married or had families. All of them were relieved that they were going to be able to use our SVOL as often as they wanted to, to communicate with their loved ones. There had been a mad rush to move to the area for the family to be able to do that.

Jenna and Mid West had been a godsend working with our employees on housing. With her special JBG discounts, payroll deduction and mandatory IRA account savings accounts, they were getting rates less than 3%.

I sat in on the VCATS calls with Vicky. Together we made arrangements for the next class of 40 deployments; that was the only way I could think to call it. The forty on Monday were all set and the forty more the following Monday were the ones we were working on.

Then, after lunch, we went down the list to confirm when the accommodations would be complete on the rest of the embassies.

With the RRT group back, they were all going to be pressed into trainers. That was the only way we were going to meet the numbers. Jenny, Jason and the HR administrators were burning the phones to get firm dates when they would be here from potential employees.

To our good fortune – just as we would triple the output from the training program – the embassies would be finishing the rooms for them and the transportation for the helicopters should arrive.

By 5 all the bits and pieces had come together as close as we could get them; all long range planning changes checked at least twice.

The weekend was wonderful; the first in 8 weeks that we had not been in a full work mode. We had our first full blown orgy in 8 weeks on Saturday night with many of the normal players with Mischief, Mayhem and their boyfriends, Jenna, Marlene, Crash and the North six.

Sunday I cooked a big breakfast for the group that had stayed over. Then I spent the day with the boys and my mates. The only thing I did work-wise was to check the fence cams at Rochester to make sure there were no problems.

Monday morning I drove my armored Suburban to KCC. I was going to meet with Bob Jackson and Mr. Nobles after I looked things over. I had been gone 8 weeks and I was sure my desk was piled full.

Patti had it separated into piles and there was no junk mail to go through. The things that had been opened had sticky notes with the action she had taken. We had a discussion before I left and I gave her permission to open my mail.

I was wondering just how long it would take the pair to make it to my office. Sixteen minutes after I logged onto my computer, they walked through the door.

“Well, our world traveler has returned. It’s good to see you are healthy after all you have been through,” Bob said and added “You even survived four days in Washington.”

“After Kampala, Washington was a breeze,” I replied.

“You and Patti both drove this morning?” Bob asked.

“Yes, mine is armored, that’s all I’m driving from now on,” I replied before I added, “Patti can continue to use the KCC one.”

“I was getting ready to email you for a meeting but now that you are here, I will tell you now. I am not going to renew my contract at the end of the year. I need to be at JBG now that we have grown so much.”

“I’m going to need some days off along the way. I have to go back to Africa several times. You promised several professors that I would speak before their classes so we need to set that up as soon as possible,” I said.

“It is not a surprise; in fact the board and I have been expecting it for a while. Just pick a date and we will end the contract on that date,” Mr. Nobles replied.

“I assume you would recommend Patti to replace you?” Bob said.

“Yes; even if you contracted with JBG for security I would recommend Patti to be Director,” I said.

“Speaking of contracting the department, can you give us a price?” Mr. Nobles asked.

“Prices are Marcy’s department and I will get it in motion. JBG normally owns the cameras, security card system and the vehicles. I will get East Coast to come up with a value for that part of it. The vehicles are up to you,” I replied

“What about the five girls I have sponsored and I have three more for next year who I was going to sponsor – will the discounts still apply?” I asked.

“Pre-enroll them now, pay the first year before you leave and that will lock it down for the four years.”

“No matter how hard we try to keep this under wraps, it will be out in a few days; have Marcy put a rush on the price. For now, any statements we will go with the end of the year,” Bob Jackson said.

The office started filling up and I was needed at the counter; students had started coming in on Friday and orientation classes were to start tomorrow.

The rest of the day was busy; busy enough that I didn’t have time to talk with Patti.

At two, the three professors who wanted me to do a presentation to their class came in. I scheduled them to take place next week; I wanted to get them out of the way and over with.

Before we left at three I had Patti come into my office and explained that I was resigning at the end of December, and the possibility that JBG would be taking over the security. If JBG did take over, she would be my Director and if we did not, I had recommended that she be the Director for the college. I also added that our conversation needed to be confidential.

I had just settled into my chair at the office when Frank paged me on VCATS, “I got the DNA and prints today on Rashid; he is still in jail. He is going to be there a while until he is deported.”

“He came in through Canada and had been denied a visa by DHS two years ago. He was on a lot of watch lists. The Imam in New York is being looked at as we speak,” Frank added before he hung up.

At out meeting, Lorrie updated us about the four that had gone to Dover today. They were not told until this morning where they would be going and what for.

Adam – one of the pilots who were going – asked, “Why do we need to do that?” Then the little light went on – it was almost comical, Lorrie said.

“They are supposed to text me when they are finished today. They are driving over every day,” Lorrie added.

Normal business finished out the meeting. I was glad to go home; the hot tub and the boys had been calling me for the last hour. I needed to relax. Why I was so stressed out today, I did not know.

It was 8 PM when Lorrie received the text from Adam; they were just leaving the base in Dover. The day had been productive; each of them had spent 2 hour rotations in the simulator. Then they spent 4 hours in the pilot’s seat demonstrating procedures and knowledge of the aircraft. That was the schedule for the next two days.

On the final day they were doing Touch and Go’s with one of the bases M models. The G5M had all the latest bells and whistles and latest cockpit upgrades. The four had plenty of hours in both models.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

While I was waiting on Kelly my cell rang.

“I assume you are going to or are in Rochester; my lead man there had to come home three weeks ago, they just found out his wife has cancer and the treatment was quickly started. The replacement is just not up to speed yet,” Frank said.

“Clayton Cheeks is on his way; see if you can give him some pointers to help him out. You are right; there is a power struggle going on there. That is about as much as I know, in addition to our previous conversation,” Frank replied before he hung up.

I watched the video starting with Tuesday on fast forward; just like a switch had been turned, yesterday at three there was a mass rush to the fence. Women were hanging cardboard and being berated for not working fast enough.

The artist started work with papers they were referring to with a man of influence by his dress looking on; he was accompanied by two other men. One looked to be Abdul Wakil.

Bill and Ed were back, “I’m sending you the pictures I took to your email; put them on the plasma and I will explain to you what they say,” Bill stated.

Clayton Cheeks arrived just as I was loading the pictures from my email.

“This one is a call to all devout Muslims to meet their new leader.”

“This one says the group is seeking specialist; you and I both know that term is usually used with explosive and bomb makers”

“The next one is reference to the Koran verse to discipline the wives frequently.”

“The next ones are rants against the city and America.”

“All that is something for someone else to deal with; my concern today is cleaning the fence and grounds and making sure they understand – either follow the agreement or stop completely,” I said.

I sent the pictures to both Frank and Eric; they could fight it out who was going to do what.

“Kelly, send someone to get the gator and the college cart if it is available and I want the two who can write tickets with us. We can’t write any today for the trash and posters but if anyone gets out of line I want them arrested,” then I added.

“I don’t think we will get very far along before we get confronted; let’s get started” I said.

The security gator and two more that belonged to the maintenance department followed.

My two employees who were police played police and observed, staying way back, the rest of us started ripping posters down and throwing them in the dump body. The so called artist scattered with the women who had been assisting him.

Just as I expected, in less than five minutes here they came. We kept on working while I was joined by Kelly, Clayton and Ching Lee as the distance closed; we kept ripping stuff down.

“What are doing? Those belong to us.” The voice belonged to Abdul Wakil.

“Abdul you were here when the agreement was made with Aadam that the posters would be put up Saturday morning and come down Sunday night and that there would be no trash on the ground,” I said. “The city is complaining,” I added.

“Aadam is not here.”

“Where is Aadam Mohamed?” I asked.

“Aadam is away; he went to visit family and has not returned. We have lost contact with him,” Abdul replied.

“Then you are the leader here now?” I replied.

The man behind Abdul began demanding in Arabic what our conversation was about and why Aadam was communicating with a woman with so many men around who were superior.

“Be patient, I am getting answers; she is the leader of these men.” Abdul replied in Arabic.

“No I am not the leader. Kareem Rashid behind me is the one the Imam from the big city sent. He arrived straight from Afghanistan,” Abdul said.

“Well no matter; the posters and trash are in violation of the agreement as is, them being on the fence today, so the agreement is canceled,” I said.

“He will not stand for that,” Abdul replied.

I stepped around Abdul and began the complete history of the fence and the agreement and its now cancellation to Kareem in Arabic. There was anger in his face and then he went to a boil.

He began ranting and raving, screaming as loud as he could about a whoring woman addressing him with that tone and then he lost it. He charged me and swung at me, which I was expecting him to do with the level of his rage.

He was fast; if I had not been expecting his moves, he would have had me. So fast that the altercation was over before the others could help me.

I kept control of my senses and ducked the swing but landed several solid ones on his body that had to hurt. The one that really hurt his pride were the ones to the face. With him face down on the ground, one of the security police officers cuffed him.

When I stood up Captain Peterson was standing there.

“Charge him with assaulting a federal official and make positively sure he is fingerprinted and collect DNA,” I told the officer.

“What do you mean federal official?” Peters asked

I handed him my Ambassador ID and badge, “Six more weeks to go, then I am done with that gig.”

“Wow, I thought all that was over, I will carry him downtown myself; there will be plenty of paper work to go with that, I will call you later.”

And a news conference I would bet, I thought.

“Do you have an Arabic interpreter down there or do you need one? He speaks no English,” I asked Captain Peters.

“If we do not have one, I will call you,” he replied.

The fingerprints and DNA would give Frank and Eric something to go with if they did not have anything.

I turned my attention to Abdul and I spoke in his native language; “The city and the college were screaming at me about all the trash. Allowing you to continue to put up the posters in the first place was my decision; there were those who did not want them there at all.”

“We are going to remove all the trash and posters today to appease the complainers. There will be no postings on the fence this weekend.”

“The original agreement is still open. When you decide who is running your community in Aadam’s absence, call me. If you should become leader the agreement will need no further discussion and the postings can continue with the old agreement.”

“If Kareem comes back to be leader, I will come and lay out the rules of the agreement for his benefit but it will not be a negotiation. But make no mistake; if he raises a hand to me again he will be killed.”

“I understand and will relay the message, I will contact you as Aadam did through Kelly,” Abdul responded.

That was how it had been done for centuries in the country they had come from and was still the way it was done; threats, power, bribes, lies, intimidation and murder – whatever worked.

It was how the dictators in the Middle East had maintained power for centuries and our liberal college presidents could not understand the concept and began policies eliminating the dictators.

The result was that the Middle East and Africa was self destructing and going to destroy Europe and eventually the US with it. Nations just have to learn to mind their own business sometimes. The dictators were bad enough but the anarchy that replaced them was 10 times worse.

My cleanup crew was back to the fence and the lot was clean. The equipment was carried back. I needed to do a couple more things before we left for home.

First thing I needed to inform Ching Lee in private of all the agreements with Frank and Eric at the four colleges where JBG was working with them to combat terrorism.

The girls knew small things about the arrangement. Marcy knew the financial end of the people listed as working for us and the swapping in and out. They were shown as our employees to protect their cover.

Vicky and Ching Lee knew about the people swaps but not really why, Jenny knew about contracts to protect us.

With Ching Lee now in charge of the college group, she should know it all.

I directed my men to monitor the apartment complex.

Ching Lee, Kelly, Clayton and I went back to the security office.

“Gentlemen, grab a cup of coffee and have seat. I need a few minutes with Ching Lee first.”

My few minutes turned out to be half an hour. Then I brought the men in. With Frank on the screen I explained what I had done and the ultimatum I had given Abdul.

Frank was not exactly happy but understood that I needed to do what I did. We both felt that they would come around so they could resume posting on the fence.

Three hours later we were back on the island. I still needed to have one more private talk with Ching Lee about the security arrangement with the agency and the three colleges; we had run out of time in Rochester and Ching Lee had questions that needed to be answered.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

There was silence; a long silence, then smiles, and then an outburst.

“THAT SETTLES IT! I am resigning too. I want to stay home with the boys and do my part here,” Jenny said.

The discussion lasted another hour and it was a happy discussion. JBG would be whole for the first time since we had started the business with all of us in the office every day.

I was still behind on my favorite dishes so tonight we went to the big Italian restaurant in Annapolis – just us girls – and the boys who always were great whenever we went out. Tonight I played it smart and reserved one of the rooms. We were recognized but left alone, until we were nearly ready to leave.

A girl – maybe 14 – cautiously came in and made her way to me at the table; she was holding a pen and a piece of paper.

“My name is Rachel McBride and I am attending the summer school for advanced academics. We have been following your trip to Kampala as part of our international events class. We are collecting donations to the Doctors without Borders to put in your collection box. I don’t want to intrude but may I please have your autograph?” as she extended her hand with the paper and a pen.

“I think I have a better piece of paper to use.”

I opened my portable office that was always by my side and took out one of my official State Department embossed and stamped correspondence sheets that I had left. Actually I had several hundred left at home.

(To: Rachel McBride. Be brave; stand by your convictions, hold your head high. We are all equal, no one is better than you. Study hard and learn all that you can for in tomorrow’s world; Knowledge is Power. Ambassador Roberta Jones. August 2’ 2016)

“Do you have a phone?”

She handed me her phone that I handed to Ching Lee – along with mine – who was beaming, watching the event unfold. Ching Lee took several pictures of us with both phones.

I noticed her parents with a younger daughter standing and looking through the door. I waved them in and more pictures were taken.

After the pictures, I picked up the piece of paper Rachael had initially handed me, “May I have your name and address, email and phone number?”

“When you get home you may want to put that in a frame. It won’t be worth any money but it may have sentimental value when you get older,” I said.

At home it was the hot tub, beer, wine coolers and babies. Tonight I was sleeping with Marcy for the first time in six weeks and we were both looking forward to it. It was good to be back to our normal routine.

I woke up Thursday refreshed and full of energy, even though Marcy and I had made up for the long weeks apart. I had the coffee percolating and breakfast finished as my mates arrived at the table.

At seven I was at my desk with VCATS on one screen and SVOL on the other. My first was to Victor to verify the placement of my 40 people next week.

On Monday, twenty were leaving for Bamako Mali and twenty to Rabat Morocco bring the JBG staffs there to 40 persons each.

Marcy would be happy because on Monday the State Department would be paying the salaries of those additional men.

I paged both Ambassador Howard Rambo at Rabat Morocco and Ambassador Steven Crow at Bamako to verify that the accommodation upgrades were complete. The calls lasted an hour each.

I was now one of them, with invitations to come visit and stay a couple of days. The invitations were genuine, not just being courteous.

I had just finished the conversation when Ching Lee came in.

“We have a problem developing in Rochester. It started three weeks ago but Kelly straightened it out, or we thought he had.”

“The group from the development across from the college started getting sloppy, leaving trash and posters on the fence Sunday evenings.”

“He told the artist that they were in violation of the agreement and that they would be arrested for littering and the agreement canceled. That worked until last night.”

“Yesterday late afternoon they covered the fence with posters and this morning the place is trashed and the posters are still on the fence. As you know, the posters were not to be put up until Saturday morning,” Ching Lee said.

“Let me make a call,” I replied.

I tried to call Aadam Mohamed on the cell number I had; the call went directly to the mail box that was full. The phone was turned off or the battery was dead.

I called Frank to see if his group knew anything, there were still several of them working within Kelly’s group.

“Aadam left for Afghanistan 10 weeks ago. We tracked him to Kabul where he stayed for a few days and then onto Karachi Pakistan.” Frank answered and then continued.

“He only stayed there two days then he flew to Riyadh Saudi Arabia where he stayed four days before going to Jima Ethiopia. We lost him there but he was still calling back to his group in Rochester.”

“The calls back were pep talks and prayers kind of things and organizational control. The last real information was that he was going with a group of freedom fighters to the Sudan when the calls stopped a week or so later. The last call was from called Kapoeta Sudan saying he would be back in three weeks.”

“They are still trying to find Aadam but Kareem Rashid seems to be the new leader there. He arrived two weeks ago from Afghanistan. We gather he cannot speak any English and wants things to be done by the radical version of the Koran,” Frank added.

“They haven’t given him total control yet but it could happen any day. Aadam’s number two Abdul Wakil is putting up a fight and most of the clan is behind him. Some of them have already had enough of Kareem,” Frank replied.

“Apparently Kareem has won out; this morning the fence agreement is over. It is covered with posters and the grounds in front of the fence trashed. Abdul was in on the making of the agreement so I would say he has lost,” I replied.

“Let me check on what has been captured the last day or two. I will get back to you,” Frank replied.

I took the phone number and what information I had to Robert, “Do your thing and see what you come up with.”

I had just settled back at my desk when the call I was expecting came in. “Hello Captain Peters, I have been expecting your call.”

While I was talking with the Captain I sent Lorrie a text, “Check the restaurant and aviation shop, see if there are any RRT in there. I need them and a plane to go to Rochester NOW.”

After I finished the call with Captain Peters, “Ching Lee lets go to Rochester, make sure to put on your vest and pack hardware.”

Marcy, Jenny and Vicky wanted to go, “No, we can’t take those kinds of risks anymore; the last thing we want is for the boys to end up orphans because of some incident and the corporation to lose a lot of its leadership. I have some of the RRT coming with us.”

At the airport all the G5 were gone; one of the leased Cessna business jets was in front of the terminal with turbines idling. In the restaurant ten of my RSS guys were waiting.

They were the group of guys that were staying local; going fishing or golfing everyday when they were not hanging around the airport or office.

Like most professionals, they had their personal gear in the trunk of their cars.

An hour and a half later we were stepping off the Cessna at the Rochester airport. I had not called ahead; the MAAR site was getting a surprise inspection as was the college security office.

Ching Lee did the audit while I checked out the three SUVs that we needed to carry us to the college and the men loaded up their things. I know taking all the extra men was probably overkill but I did not know how many Kareem brought with him or had radicalized. I wanted to have the situation covered.

We drove straight to the security building, turning into the entrance to the college grounds and I was disgusted. They had trashed the entire fence from one end to the other. It was completely filled with cardboard with all kinds of Arabic writing on it. The 30 foot of grass between the fence and sidewalk was littered with paper, cans, bottles and cardboard.

We unloaded in front of the security building. I sent Bill Townsend and Ed Dean to ride the street in front of the fence to interpret the Arabic writing. Bill had been a translator at both language and writing in the sand box – even if the dialect was slightly different – he should be able to make it out.

The rest of us went inside with Ching Lee and I to Kelly’s office.

“I was just coming out to meet you no one messaged me that you were coming. We could have met you at the airport,” Kelly said.

“How many of the campus police are working today?” I asked.

“Four.”

“Pull up the fence cameras and back it up three or four days. I want to look at it in fast motion.”

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

I drove from the Pentagon to the island; Vicky was hitting me with one question after another. She did not understand all the military jargon that went on at the table with the Generals.

We were on the Bay Bridge when I took another call on the Suburban’s On-star connect system that I had paired with my phone. The more I used it the more I loved the hands-free conversations. The down side was that sometimes the thing answered calls if I was close to the outside of the truck because of the time delay.

The call was from General McVee responding to my questions that I had left on his cell phone inbox.

“Good afternoon Ambassador, I see you are one of those people that when you fight, you fight to win; my kind of people.”

“I hate to lose if that is what you mean,” I replied.

“So do I,” he replied.

“To cut to the grit of the matter I was wondering if your men needed flight hours again this year?”

“It’s interesting that you called at this time because we are reviewing options on that. The governor had to call out the guard for the spring floods for 12 weeks so funding was redirected. Materials Transport command came up on the short stick again. ”

“The governor promised that more funding was coming in the new budget and it did not happen; then there was hope that the reserve units would get more money from the Army in the Federal appropriations bill. The bill is still in limbo and there are no additional funds in it. We have been doing the absolute bare minimum to keep the pilots qualified. What do you have in mind?”

“How many C130 crews do you have that need time?” I asked.

“All of them.”

“OK, here is what JBG is up against. I’m sure you know about our expanded embassy contracts; we have 39 Black Hawks, 39 Suburbans and upgraded staff for those 39 embassies. October 1 is the target date but we have until the 31st to be in full compliance.”

“We could end up making 39 trips from Maryland to Africa and the Middle East. That would be very costly and time consuming if we have to do it that way.”

“The other thing I am working on is an air freighter that can carry multiple units in one flight. If that comes through then I would have the units delivered to central locations in Africa and use your men and planes to disperse them; either way there will be a lot of flying for your men on my nickel.”

“As we did the last time, JGB will pick up fuel cost, room, meals and incidentals. Maintenance costs run 100 dollars per flight hour on our C130s and we would be willing to pay the same. We will need both of your extended C130s,” I said.

“You would need to make sure that all their shots are up to date as well as their passports. I am assuming that each group would be able to do a two week cycle.”

“I will run it by the Governor. I can support your proposal; it worked out great for us last year and sounds like it will help us this year. The 100 per flight hour should seal the deal,” the General replied.

“How long before you know for sure about the air freighter?” he asked.

“Ten days or less,” I replied.

“I have a meeting with the Governor tomorrow. I will let you know as soon as I know.” Click ended the call.

“Now for the bad part of the day,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Vicky asked.

“We have to tell Lorrie about the people she is losing; she may not take that well,”

“I had forgotten about Lorrie. Are we going to Morton or going to wait until tonight’s meeting?” Vicky replied.

“The meeting is in an hour, we just as well wait; that will give us some time to do some more planning. We need to look at the map that Mary Ann put together for me and wrap our heads round where the central locations need to be.”

I called Lorrie on the hands free and asked her to have Robbie come to our meeting for a few minutes.

Vicky and I looked at the map of Africa that Mary Ann had made behind the closed door of my office. Bamako Mali, Kampala Uganda, Lusaka, Zambia, Cairo Egypt and possibly a stop at Rabat Morocco looked good for central points.

The meeting today was informative from many angles; the crash pad was done. All the furnishings were in and the place was ready. Forty rooms with twin queen beds, two dressers, one closet. Two occupants would share each room.

The Holiday East that we had been using was losing 40 room rentals a night from us starting Monday, saving JBG $2000 a night.

Laurie Crafton was put in charge of the rooms; Laurie had been handling the motel room scheduling for a while she was working with Ching Lee and Vicky when both of them were in charge of the training.

A cleaning crew had been hired to clean the rooms, do laundry and make the beds. Two more commercial wash machines and four driers had been bought to be split between Horsey house and the Crash pad.

The truckload of linens arrived today giving the cleaning crew several days to get all the rooms made up and find out what was lacking. Marcy had ordered the better grade of towels and cloths; I was sure the men and ladies would love that. I know I hated the cheap crap that most hotels furnished.

Richard Bozman sent a text to Vicky that the furnishings and linens for the Horsey house expansion could be ordered and scheduled for delivery in two weeks and we could schedule the rooms for use in three weeks. The Holiday East was going to feel real financial pain with the loss of more rooms.

It would not hurt my feelings; they had gotten complacent in the last few months. Our people were complaining more and more about the lack of towels, no soap, rooms not being clean and minor issues being ignored.

When Robbie arrived we changed the discussion to the logistics for embassy contract.

“Yesterday I made a couple of calls to see if I could get us any help with moving the Black Hawks and the Suburbans to Africa; two things are in the works.”

“The first one is that we going to do a pilot project with the Air Force Materials Command. We need to send Adam Elliott, Sam Walls, Preston Jacobs and Vincent Holly to Dover AFB at 0800 Monday. They may be there up to a week completing simulator flight review for a C5.”

“If they complete the review satisfactorily, on the following Monday we fly them to Travis Air Force base along with John Bishop, Matt Phillips, Dale Smith and Terry Louis. If the maintenance skills of those four meet the expectations of the chief of maintenance they will return with a C5B for us to use for 90 days.”

“There will be an Air Force officer accompanying the flights to evaluate the crew’s performance and has the authority to cancel the project if crew performance is not up to expectations.”

“The second part is that the Iowa Air National Guard is looking for flight time again. What I am thinking is that we use the C5 to put choppers and Suburbans at central locations and let the guard deliver them where they need to go.”

“I told them that we needed the extended C130 planes. If the UPS loads get smaller we could use one of their regular C130s to do the Charlotte flights and shift ours to Africa for a bit,” I said.

“The four mechanics are assigned primarily to the C130 maintenance group and then the general fixed wing shop. I can work around them being gone for a few days at a time,” Robbie said.

“On a different note we will have nine Black Hawks ready to be shipped out by the weekend. I have guys in the chopper shop who will work a couple hours overtime weekdays and Saturday if you will approve it. That would possibly bring output up to four a week,” Robbie added.

“Authorize the overtime,” I replied.

“The four pilots are in the C130 and Bombardier pilot group. If the Iowa pilots show up I can use them so there will be no problems,” Lorrie added.

“Where are you going to send the 40 men who will finish up Friday? We need them sent somewhere to begin billing the State department. We do not need them sitting around here for several weeks being paid for nothing,” Marcy stated.

“I have a list of places Victor wants brought up to full staff ASAP. Thankfully, they are the sites where we now have SUVs and choppers. We need to call the major airlines to see who will give us the best contract price to the African airports,” I replied.

“I can do that; how many seats?” Lorrie asked.

“For now leverage them up to 40 at a time and put 1000 a year as a possibility, if we have to swap out everyone,” I replied to Lorrie.

“Shop all the airlines for the best price,” Marcy said then added, “If you want, I can sit in on those conversations.”

“I will get the list of airlines and you can make the calls,” Lorrie came back at her with.

Lorrie knew just how much time would be consumed with those kinds of calls. I winked at Lorrie just to let her know I knew what she was doing.

That ended the meeting, and I asked the girls to stay; I had one more topic for them.

“My contract with KCC ends December 31 and I have decided not to extend it. The business has grown so much I belong here with you. I am going to inform Bob Jackson on Monday.”

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Vicky and I were in the House National Security Committee meeting room at 10 on Wednesday. The room was filled with the House security members; the same eight that were in the joint Senate room on Monday plus Eric, Frank and Victor accompanied by Amy.

After I was sworn in they reviewed the questions that were asked behind the closed door Senate meeting. They repeatedly asked more questions about the EIT group and the weapons that were used. Some of them I refused to answer.

` Some I answered with that the topic was outside the scope of the subpoena because JBG was not the subject of the investigation and the subpoena as issued did not mention JBG; it was the same as I had answered that type of question in the Senate hearing.

At noon the committee accepted that the investigation was thorough and complete and accepted the findings of the House and Senate joint national security committee.

A reworded statement that said the same thing as the Senate statement was released to the press. The committee recommended to the chairman of the National Security Agency that all records be sealed and the investigation be closed on the Kampala Embassy attack.

The assistant secretary of state was to be dispatched to Uganda with a condensed version of the events. He was to let the chips fall where they may on the intelligence failures from the Ugandan government and the African anti-terror network.

After the meeting I was informed that my term as Ambassador would end the last day of September by Victor. KCC would be in full swing the last week of August and Ching Lee and the college security group would be out west working to set up the two new colleges.

When I went back to KCC on Monday, I was going to inform Bob Jackson that I was not going to seek renewal and would turn down a contract extension as director of security. December 31 would be my last day at KCC. JBG now required my full attention.

I was going to inform the girls of my decision tonight. I knew Jenny was having second thoughts about continuing on as chairperson of the Governor’s criminal task force. I wondered if my decision would influence her to do the same. On top of that, JBG had taken six of the task force’s best hackers and research people.

There are times in life when it is time to move on and that’s the way I had come to look at my involvement with KCC. If they asked for an opinion on my replacement it would be Patti.

Patti was moving on as well. She and Purnell had picked a wedding date, October 31; a wedding on Halloween of all the days to pick. To each his own I guess.

Midwest was financing a new house for them in Hill Church Farms, a development about 10 miles from KCC. It was to be completed in time for them to move in before the wedding.

I turned my phone on as we walked back to the Suburban, and found I had a dozen messages to deal with. I let Vicky drive so I could deal with them.

The first on the list was General McJames; it simply said, “Call me ASAP.”

“Ambassador Jones; I saw that you were in Washington today. I assume you have finished your business with the House, do you have time to stop by the Pentagon? I need to discuss things with you face to face. I have answers to some of your questions and my superiors have questions they want to hear answered directly by you,” he asked.

“Yes, we are finished here. Give me an address and where can I park?” I replied.

“South Washington Blvd. Park in the south parking lot, there are shuttles that will bring you to the main entrance; have them page me,” he replied.

I punched the address into the smarter than smart phone and it steered Vicky right to the south parking lot entrance. We had just stepped out of the Suburban and I was unloading my portable office when one of the shuttles stopped and waited for us to step in.

At the security station there were many terminals, but at this time of day only a few were manned. I used my Ambassador’s ID; it was still good for another five weeks.

“General McJames wants to be notified of my arrival,” I said to the security guard.

“There are several Generals to be notified of your arrival Ambassador Jones; General McJames will be here in a minute,” he replied.

General McJames and Lt. General DeMarcus stepped out of a hallway that was sealed off with a heavy door.

“Good to see you again; your little trip to Kampala was a resounding success, from all reports,” General DeMarcus said as he shook my and then Vicky’s hand and then introduced General McJames.

“It was touch and go for a few minutes, but superior training, better weapons and a better plan paid off,” I replied.

“After our many conversations it is good to finally get to meet you General McJames. This is Vicky Snow; Vicky is now in charge of the embassy security division,” I said.

Vicky and I followed the Generals down several halls to a plush meeting room. The first place I headed was the big old fashion percolator coffee pot that looked like a holdover from the last big war. The smell said the coffee was going to be good stuff.

We sat in the fancy chairs and waited until the rest of the officials arrived. That was one very popular coffee pot. There was a continuous stream of high officials from all the services getting coffee.

They all knew the Generals and stopped to talk; I finally gave up sitting and just stood with my cup to shake hands after my introductions. One by one, other chairs at the table were taken.

General McJames opened the conversation, “Ambassador Jones came forward with an unusual request that normally would not even be discussed.

JBG has 80 US embassies under their security umbrella and has been involved with three attacks against US interests. The outcome of the most recent attack on the Kampala Embassy has given the DOD a new respect for the level of operations at JBG.”

“According to shared intelligence, JBG is also working in several other intelligence areas with other high level government agencies.”

“It has also come to our attention that JBG has a lot of former DOD equipment – C130s and Blackhawks as well as former members of the armed services.”

“We cannot sell you what you ask for or even do lend-lease without an extensive time consuming process. Nor can we act as a contractor for you.”

“You indicated in the initial conversation that you had former Air Force pilots with command hours in the aircraft?”

“Yes, we have 10 who have substantial hours; some of them as recent as six months ago,” I replied.

I answered questions for an hour from the others at the table about my request before the questions ventured off to the Kampala attack and to the locations of the embassies JBG was acquiring.

Vicky was taking notes and her head was on a swivel trying to make heads and tails out of what was happening. I had not told any of the girls what I was trying to do.

“The top ranking Air Force officer at the table – General George Walton – called the questions to a halt, “The four pilots and copilots will have to do a refresher on the simulator at Dover, that could go slow or fast, but expect a week for all that. Have them there at 0800 Monday; they should also be able to serve as the flight engineers and load masters as you need them.”

“You also have mechanics that are qualified to work on that aircraft, I am told. They will have to accompany the pilots to Travis AFB to pick up the aircraft where they will have to demonstrate their skill level to the head maintenance officer there. If all that goes well, you will fly the aircraft back to Morton Field. After 90 days, you are to deliver the aircraft to the Arizona storage site where it will be placed out of service or destroyed as international treaties dictate.”

“In the mean time the aircraft will undergo inspection and maintenance to get it ready for you to use.”

“If the State Department can call working with JBG on what happened at Kampala cross training so can we. We will call this a 90 day pilot program to evaluate civilian contractors for war time air freight operations in US owned aircraft. If it works out as positively as I think it will we may want to authorize some contract talks,” he said then added.

“Make sure you have insurance on the aircraft before you pick it up; JBG will be responsible for all damages should there be any. There will be an evaluation officer assigned to accompany the flights.”

He passed a stack of papers around the table with the other Generals signing and finally to me, “Sign on the line.”

With that the Generals walked out, General McJames made a call then said, “Major Radcliff from the Marine Recruiting Office is on his way; he has a couple questions for you.”

“I am not signing back up if that is what he is after,” all three of them broke out with a laugh.

The Major slid two 12 x 8 across the table; one was of me in my dress blues taken at the Navy Ball by the Navy’s professional photographer, the other was the one Andy had taken of me on the roof of the Kampala Embassy.

“We are always looking for new faces to use on recruiting, we would like to use these immediately while Kampala is still in the news cycle,” he said.

“Both of them have been in the public eye, so if you can use them go ahead. There is really not much need of me objecting,” I replied.

“I just need you to sign the release then; I will send you the ads in your email before they hit the air and print media with the dates and places,” the major replied.

We left the Pentagon in time to fight rush hour traffic to get home.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof Read by Bob W.

With Tuesday off I spent the day at the office and just looking at things. I walked over to the Horsey house to inspect the addition there. The three story addition was now closed up to the weather, the exterior finished.

The electricians and plumbers were doing their thing; another week or two and the drywall could be put up and finished and the plumbers back to install the fixtures.

As much as I wanted to spend more time looking, the office was calling. All the thumb drives from yesterday went back into my safe. Then I sent the recording of Anton and me to another drive and it joined the rest in the safe.

Cindy issued me a new phone and transferred my entire contact list. With the SIMs card and the battery out, the phone joined the things in the safe. It was probably over-kill but with all the hacking going on, I wanted a clean phone. There were just too many pictures and other things on the phone.

Even though they had been deleted or sent to thumb drives, it left me worried. If Robert and Burt could find all those things that supposedly were gone, so could anyone else.

I visited Robert and Burt to thank them for the great work they had done with the intelligence. I met the four new people in the EIT department; I had asked Burt and Robert weeks before I left if they knew anyone who was as talented as they were who we could hire. I did that as soon as I found out that we were getting the additional embassies.

Christina Peete, Jay Rudd, Alex Holley, and Kayne Keating were the new spooks. Robert and Burt had worked them into the system and how things were to be done. They had helped with the work for Kampala.

I could tell there was something that they wanted to ask from the looks back and forth, “Spill it.”

“We need a bigger computer system; with six of us hacking everything everywhere this one is over-whelmed. It’s starting to slow us down.”

“Just order what you need and send the bill to Cindy to approve it,” I said.

“It could be seven figures with the servers we need,” Robert replied.

“If that is what you need to continue at the level you have been at and get better as we expand, order it. Is the office going to be big enough to hold it?

“The system will companion with the servers and system we already have to make a really great system, so only time will tell on that,” Robert replied.

I was paged back to my office for VCATS, Victor, Amy, and Elmer Hobart and Steven Crow were waiting, Vicky was keeping them entertained until I could get there.

After a lengthy conversation I had won another battle; the State department agreed to allow JBG to start the security exchanges as we had the numbers trained. It would allow greater flexibility with training and staffing swaps. It was still going to be a logistical nightmare. People, choppers and armored SUVs all needed to go to 40 different countries.

The other good news came from Robbie and Lorrie. It seems with the extra help and by picking out the best Black Hawks first, he was expecting two Black Hawks a week, possibly three to be completed; the hold up would be the paint shop. I learned one of the side hangers on the super hanger was now a paint shop.

Before, Robbie had to do all the work to the chopper, then fly it to Baltimore only to be partially taken apart again to paint then reassembled and flown back. Now the work could be done as needed and then rolled across the airport to the paint shop and painted; then rolled back to finish assembling and final test.

I learned from Lorrie that the C17 had been gone just 10 days; the original 2 week stay turned out to be 26 weeks. I for one was glad it was gone. I was tired of it being a topic in some of the meetings with the wimpy triplets.

On another note, last night was the first of the freight flights. There were a few minor problems at Charlotte; Scranton had been smooth. To my surprise the report that Lorrie had received about the flights indicated the planes were nearly full of packages. If that trend continued it would end any thoughts of down-sizing to smaller planes.

That was going to be a problem; we were hoping to be able to down-size one of the freight flights to a smaller plane after the first few weeks and free up the extended C130 to deliver choppers in Africa and the Middle East for the new contract.

Logistics is going to be a bitch – make no mistake about it, I thought.

I had 45 minutes before I was going to lunch with the girls. It was time to face the music; I went to the gym floor to find one of the trainers to spend time with me on the mats. I wanted to see just how bad the six weeks of the good life had hurt my skills.

Kathryn was more than willing to be my partner. I found myself on the floor several times and huffing more than usual. I had a lot of work to do in the gym over the next week or so to get back what I had lost.

A midweek day lunch with my mates was a rarity and I enjoyed today’s. Even though I chose to eat light, it was a refreshing hour.

After lunch I was back on VCATS with Victor and we began a rough outline of the embassies that were at the top of the list for the first change-over to JBG security.

The list was all 39 of the new embassies now that Kampala was staffed. There were some of the smaller African mainland and island countries that were considered part of Africa that did not have US embassies. The 39 that were left included the remainder of the Middle Eastern countries that JBG did not have.

I had a couple of hours before our evening meeting. I had questions that I needed answers to for the logistics problem.

The first call went to General McVee of the Iowa National Guard. They had flown flights for us last year to get flight hour training for their pilots and crews. I wondered if their budget crisis was over or if they would still be interested in the same arrangement.

The next call went to General McJames and included a list of questions: Has it ever been done before? What are the chances? What direction do I need to go and who do I need to talk to?

“I don’t know, I have never been asked that question before; but I will find out,” the General replied.

Mary Ann – one of Cindy’s clerks – came into my office at the right time. I copied the embassy list, “Find me a full map of Africa and the Middle East, mark these locations on it and hang it on the wall. I need a visual of where these places are.”

It was now the first week of August. We had 8 weeks by the contract terms to begin and all the embassy swaps needed done by the end of October. Even if Robbie could continue three choppers a week, we were still going to be short.

The armored SUVs numbers were going to be close, we had held on to older ones and the last order that Marcy made was in and sitting in the parking garage. When I found out that our contract was going to be expanded, I stopped plans to disperse them to the locations they were ordered for.

An additional order for the 40 more had been made but only a few would be delivered by Oct 1.

Our meeting began on time, I spent two hours being brought up to speed. The bad news was the gun club problem was growing; the good news on that was that Jason had made progress in negotiations with the owner and he was receptive to discuss an offer, but wanted to meet with me personally.

“Jason, set up a meeting for any time on Thursday. I am not supposed to have to go back to Washington after tomorrow,” I replied to his statement then added, “Check with the county and make sure there are no liens or other surprises we need to deal with on the deed.”

I listened while Marcy ran down the list of charges that were so far associated with my venture to Kampala. They were going to be billed to the State department.
Labor charges – 3 million
Food – 200,000
East and west wall repair with add-ons – 300,000
Blast wall with add-on – 150,000
Medevac flight with add-on – 250,000
Special equipment skid steer, truck, trailer – 150,000
Blackhawk charges 7,500 per week for 52 weeks – 390,000
Jet A fuel charges to date – 110,000
Drone & special weapons charges – 200,000
EIT group charges – 115,000
Misc expenses cash – 100,000
2 armored Suburban – 104,000 each annual
5 million in charges to date; and we did not have the medical bills yet.

Then a crazy thought hit me; that was 27,000 for each terrorist killed – that’s actually pretty cheap. The drones and missiles the Air Force was using to kill one or two terrorists at a time were a million a piece.

“Its thoughts like that that will drive me insane and to sleepless nights,” I said to myself.

I was glad when the meeting ended; I had a headache from all Marcy’s numbers. My mind was occupied in other places; I was wondering if there was a way to speed up the chopper numbers. I did not want to put pressure on Robbie’s group. Pressure leads to mistakes and that was not acceptable with aircraft.

Then came the highlight of the day; home, boys, hot tub and boys. I still was not caught up on giving them hugs and kisses; their little smiles had become infectious and they were happy to see me. At the sound of my voice their eyes were wide open.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Lunch was great, after lunch back in the committee room there were eight house members who I recognized as from the house intelligence committee that I was to address Wednesday and Thursday. This afternoon’s session had turned into a joint session that was not on any schedule I had seen.

The guests were the Director of National Intelligence Agency Art Cummings and Director Frank Love of the CIA; my partner in many crimes – where that thought came from I had no idea. Marty Coeburn, FBI and Eric from DHS also walked in. The last person was the Assistant Secretary of State Steven Crowley whose appointment was approved while I was in Kampala; he was the number 2 man in the state department.

One of the CIA men I had seen at the gym was pushing in a cart with a flat screen. All the intelligence agencies reported to Art; CIA, NSA and in some fashion FBI and DHS

“With the exception of Ambassador Jones, turn off all cell phones, all computers, put away the pads and pens, and all recording devices and put them on the cart; all aides and assistants are to leave. Sergeant at arms, please place the cart in the storage room and after our guests enter, all doors are to be locked and guarded until you are summoned to unlock them,” the chairman directed.

The aide then placed a top secret confidentiality statement enforced with imprisonment and possibly the death penalty for violation for all of us to sign. When they were signed and collected, the aide left.

Frank motioned me off to the side, “If you haven’t guessed it, you are doing the top secret presentation. Mr. Cummings and I believe that to permanently cover you under the secrecy laws and give you immunity for the events that happened in Kampala and to bring these intelligence committees up to speed, you need to run the video from drones at the Embassy and of 515 Nubulagla Road and give good commentary.”

“Did you bring the thumb drives as I suggested?”

“Yes, I have four from the drones at the embassy and the three from 515; I have the audio with Anton at 515 and the video of the embassy cookout that Anton was at along with a couple of earlier ones,” I replied.

“I know this dumps a lot on you without warning, but people in very high places just agreed 20 minutes ago. I am sorry about that but I know you are at your best under stress,” Frank said. “To add to that stress the people in this room are the top tier of national security; do not BS them.”

“You will only have to appear Wednesday for the House committee,” Frank added.

“The committee is yours, do what you always do dazzle them,” Frank replied as he turned towards his seat.

“For those that do not know me, I’m Roberta Jones, my friends call me BJ. I am President of Jones Business Groups. My part of that group has been the security division, both the college and embassies. When I accepted the assignment as temporary Ambassador the security division split. Vicky is now handling the day to day operations of the embassy division.”

“This Intel about the planned attack on the Kampala Embassy goes all the way back to the previous attack on the Morocco Embassy. I was furious about the attack and that there was no Intel to give warning before an attack of that size and the loss of two of my employees.

“JBG started our own Intel group known as the EIT; with one simple directive. Find what was missed; find the trail of crumbs they left – and they did.”

“That trail allowed the JBG Special Ops team to take out Haamid Mohammed – the master mind of the Morocco attack – and recover his computer. His computer allowed other crumbs to be recovered and that trail allowed the financier to be discovered; Prince Aabad Aabzaari. I think all of you know the story of the Prince and his demise along with a large group of terrorist in Morocco at the hands of the JBG Special Ops team.”

“Again computers, thumb drives and papers collected at the scene showed a trail of crumbs that alerted the EIT group to the planned attack on the Kampala Embassy. The entire JBG Rapid Response Team, including the Special Ops team and myself went to Kampala. We gave ourselves one directive; crush the attack and the attackers.”

“The following four videos are from the gun and bomb cameras in the JBG drones.” I played all four thumbs that contained all the footage.

The video was raw, nothing deleted. There was over view as the drones were shuffled around and reloaded. The bomb and gunship drone setup was clearly visible as were most of my men on the grounds.

“The demise of the entire terrorist attack brought a flood of crumbs that led to the planners of the attack and some interesting side players.”

The first thumb was Anton arriving 515 and when Anton met me at the car. I played the conversation I had recorded on my phone, including my faked conversation with an aircraft and the high drone coverage of 515 destroyed, and then the two videos from the bomb drones.

The final piece was the cookout with Anton. When the final video was over I asked, “Any questions?” That was a mistake.

The assistant Secretary of State stood, “I have several questions; I am new at this level and was not in the loop at the time of these events. Do I understand that JBG killed Haamid Mohammed?”

“Yes that is correct,” I replied.

“And that a JBG team killed Prince Aabad Aabzaari in Morocco?”

“The prince funded the training and the attacks on the Morocco embassy, the mall in Annapolis and the attack on JBG Morton Field,” I replied.

I brought the thumb drives from the ops to kill the prince just in case this inquiry went that far back. I played all the drone videos first and finally the demise of the Prince.

Steve Crowley almost fell in his seat and did his best not to be sick before he spoke again, “The drones, are they US government property?”

“No they are the property of JBG.”

“The weapons systems,” he asked.

“Designed and built by JBG.”

“Nobody and I mean nobody kills or maims my people and gets away with it; you will be hunted down to the end of the earth for however long it takes,” I replied.

“Your Intel group found all this data after each OPS, when was the data made available to the US agencies?”

“As soon as my group extracted the data, the original materials were turned over to the agency immediately,” I relied.

“Why was Anton Pavlenko at 515?” he asked.

Robert and Burt had covered my ass again. This morning before I left the office they had given me a thumb drive with every daily update of the terrorist messages.

I was able to quickly go the day of the attack and display each day’s messages from the terrorist until 515 ceased to exist. Apparently they were hand scanned to the file after they were stamped top secret.

I slowly flipped each sheet on the screen and read the highlighted translation.

I answered questions for another hour; some were two faced, trying to trip me up. Finally everyone was satisfied. The cart with all the phones was brought back in. I locked all the drives back into my portable office and waited.

Finally the round table started with the chairman sorting out the pictures that were going to be given to the media and the press release. There was only going to be one release and that was today. The reporters would be handed out the pictures ten minutes before the news conference.

The committee spokesperson was going to handle all questions unless any were specifically to other members; if the question was within the secrecy guidelines than the spokesperson would allow it to be answered. To me it could be a complicated mess.

Vicky and I stood to the back and let the big dogs have the camera time and waited patiently until we could leave. That plan did not work out exactly as I wanted.

I had to answer over a dozen questions related to the attack, after each question was asked I looked to the spokesperson for approval before I answered.

Vicky and I finally left to go home. Two capital police officers escorted us to the Suburban.

Once we were moving Vicky said, “I do not think I could have done that presentation in front of all those people.”

“I understand why you did not show us all the video of the aftermath of the attack, all those dead men and the 515 retaliation. We have seen a lot of things and have been hardened some, but I know we were not ready for that.”

“There are pieces that were not discussed there because they were too secret even for the committee and will never be told. I will carry those things to my grave,” I replied.

The ride home went fast as Vicky filled me in on many things that had gone on in my absence. There was a lot of work going on and a lot more to do. Tonight’s meeting was going to be a humdinger.

One of the first questions when everyone was seated, “Where did the picture of me on the roof after the attack come from?”

“We asked Andy to take general pictures of everyday life there; it was in with them,” Marcy replied.

“Tonight at the house we will go through them. I want to see what was captured on film. Then I will have a talk with Andy when he gets back.”
Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Monday morning, Vicky and I were crossing the Bay Bridge to Washington in a new armored Suburban. This one was to be mine from now on; it had the hidden light package and the works, including heavy dark tinting on the windows and the secure weapons box in the back.

Today and tomorrow was to be at the Senate. We parked at the expensive parking garage as close to the Senate building as I could get. Vicky had secured reservations for all four days.

It was a short walk to the Senate building steps. I was carrying my portable office in a travel case with wheels. The only problem was the steps were staked out by the media. Oh well, time to play politician again as we started up the steps.

We made it almost to the top of the steps before someone recognized me.

“Ambassador Jones, Laura Purcell ADC news. Are you ready to go back to central Africa again after your last experience there?”

“Oh yes. I am going to go back a few weeks. JBG has a lot of work to do on the African continent.”

“Have all your injuries healed along with those of your men who were injured?”

“The last of my men will be released from the hospital today. Other than the scars on my soul, I have healed,” I replied.

Vicky and I went into the building and got in line for the security check.

I handed the agent my passport, my Ambassador’s ID and the subpoena for today. “Can you give me directions to get to that chamber?”

“Yes Ma-am, go down the hall, make the first right, then go to the second hall, turn to the right and the meeting room is the first door on the right.” He had been tracing the path in red on a building map.

“Welcome back Ambassador; there were a few minutes there that we were all worried,” he said.

“It’s good to be back, thank you,” I responded.

We went to find the room and the closest bathroom for a pit stop. We were thirty minutes early; I opened my state department computer and began looking at all today’s alerts and then began checking on embassies where I had employees.

I sent a memo to all the JBG embassy employees that the last three of their fellow employees injured in Kampala would be released from the hospital today.

Victor, Amy and Elmer came in and sat with us while we waited. Victor handed me the final version of the investigation into the Kampala attack; all 450 pages of it. At least it was in bold print and double spaced.

I wondered how long the Senate and House panel had their copies. I asked Victor, “Is there anything that stands out that I needed to read before the panel was called to order?”

Victor handed me a note with page and paragraph numbers that he said I should look at to refresh my memory.

“You will have plenty of time. It will take 2 hours to go through the preliminary political statements and disclaimers before they start asking any real questions,” Victor replied.

I started looking at the page he had identified and read all the paragraphs. The Senators were the last ones in as customary. We all had to stand until they were seated.

Victor was right; it took almost two hours for the political posturing, back scratching and my dick is bigger than yours before Victor and I were called upon to be sworn in. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me,” the sergeant at arms said. After we sat down, this statement was read.

“This investigation and all testimony are CLASSIFIED and shall remain so for fifty years by order of the National Intelligence Supervisory Board. There will be a media briefing of selected items by the chairman of this committee and only the chairman,” the sergeant at arms read the statement.

“On page 54 of this report it indicates that there were 27 containers loaded at Morton Field that there was no manifest for. Can you describe for the committee what the contents of those containers were?” Senator Marx asked.

“I don’t have the list of what was in the containers with me. The subpoena that I was issued contained no list of items I was to supply,” I replied then added.

“From my memory we carried a lot of foods that we were not sure if they would be available there; a bit of home if you will. We also carried new additional security equipment to upgrade the site. We also carried additional equipment for the security personnel.”

“What kinds of foods did you carry?” the Senator asked, as if it really mattered.

“We carried 14 thousand pounds of bacon, sausage, scrapple, hams, steaks, roast, potatoes, hamburgers, hot dogs, bake beans, rolls and eggs. All perishables were packed in dry ice for long term storage.”

“That seems like an awful lot for your security team,” he replied.

“We bought vegetables and other staples there and we left very little for the replacement crew. You have to understand that – in that heat – working and continuing an exercise regimen burns 4000 calories a day,” I said.

“You eat 4000 calories a day?”

“A lot of days yes, it’s easy to see,” I replied.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see it on you, and I don’t think we are headed in the right direction. This is not exactly a politically correct direction for this discussion,” he replied.

“On page 56 there were notations that are unclear as to their origin, about Intel that led to the suspicion that an attack was imminent on the embassy. Can you expand on that intel for the committee?” He asked.

“I would assume that information came from one of the federal agencies; after all they see all, know all and have it all,” I replied as the panel broke out in chuckles.

“Does JBG have an Intelligence gathering group?” he asked.

“I am not going to answer that question,” I replied.

“You were issued a subpoena,” he replied.

“That is correct as Ambassador, directed to address Ambassador functions connected to the Kampala embassy attack. The question you just asked is directed at me in a different position that no subpoena was issued to cover as President of JBG,” I replied.

“I had not thought of it that way. You are correct; I guess it is a gray area so let’s move on.”

“The report indicates that you were on the roof during the attack; what were you doing on the roof?’

“Watching the Uganda Anniversary Day Parade; the parade route made a turn two blocks from embassy. It was the perfect vantage point to see the parade. I had given a speech the day before at the official start at the Presidential Palace,” I answered.

“Yes, we have the video and text of your speech in the record.”

“When did you realize that something was not right with the event?”

“When large gaps started appearing between the parade floats indicated something was wrong. And then when the line started moving and one of the trucks that created the gap took off like a bat out of hell and ran through the crowd of people at the turn.”

“Is that when you ordered a defensive posture?” The Senator asked.

“Yes, and I believe you have a few minutes of the embassy video until the cameras were destroyed,” I replied.

“At what point did you realize that there were two truck bombers involved?” the Senator asked.

“The embassy helicopter was airborne making a security sweep and picked up on the second attack group. The type and design of the truck was out of place and fit the profile of a vehicle used for truck bombs. It was also on a section of road leading to the front of the embassy that had been temporally closed for the parade.” I replied.

“Yes, to respond to your previous answer, we do have all the pictures and from that point on – it speaks for itself. However, there was one picture that was not in the group has come to the attention of the panel and it was this one,” he said as he took a picture out of a folder and passed it around the table to get it to me.

I was expecting it to be a picture of the Russians and the Iranians, instead it was a copy of the one of me on the roof after the attack was over, taken with a cell phone from the welcome home dinner.

“Was there a reason it was not in any of the evidence supplied to the committee?”

“I did not know the picture existed until Saturday night, it is not a very flattering picture. The picture really did not add or take away anything about the attack,” I replied.

“It may not be flattering; most pictures are worth a thousand words – this one is worth a lot more than that, I think. Are there more that we have not seen?” he asked.

“That is the only one that that I know of,” I replied.

“The committee will release it with a select few at the news conference that will update today’s hearing at three. I have been assured that you will be part of that news conference.”

“Yes, I agreed to be part of the news conference,” I replied.

“Getting back to intelligence, did you rely on the State Department’s intelligence reports or did you do your own assessment?”

“I always do my own assessment after reviewing all reports and data from all government sources and all other sources that I could find. Then I compared my assessment to the departments. Over time I learned how to ignore the BS to get the real Intel that I needed. ” I replied.

“JUST what do you mean BS? Give me an example!” he demanded.

“An example, hmm; the government agency’s – primarily the NSA – has billions of bits of data on everybody on servers scattered everywhere. Every email, text, Face Book, twitter, every credit card transaction, checking account, every phone number called and answered; absolutely everything on everybody. Heck, on some people they even have film of the seed being planted that created their kids.”

“I believe they also have data from every county in the world, or so I have been told,” I added.

“Let’s call this data the bucket; at this point it’s just a bunch of useless data. Let’s grab a piece of this data. [The three blind mice went south.] That doesn’t mean a whole lot to anybody unless…”

“Well old Cougar Kat here, (I reached over and touched Vicky) has a taste for three blind mice. So she reaches into the bucket for more data and comes out with another piece, the three blind mice went south riding on a silver chariot pulled by rusty rat.”

“Now you have the makings of usable data that you can call Intel to work with; three blind mice, silver chariot, south and rusty rat. You narrow your search to only everything connected to those items. I mean everything; you have eliminated north, east and west, all the other mice, and only silver chariots but only one will be pulled by rusty rat.”

“Cougar Kat, how were those three blind mice?”

“Very tasty,” Vicky replied before laughing.

“All intel is ONLY as good as the questions the researcher asked and fails because of what they didn’t ask. That is why the Boston Bombers, the Fort Hood shooter, the Florida club shooter and the San Bernardino terrorist were successful; no one asked the right questions.”

“After the fact the FBI, DHS and NSA were able to give all kinds of data to the media that proved they were terrorist in waiting; why was this not found 6 weeks before?”

“Why not routinely search for all who traveled to Africa, the Middle East, Eurasia and Indonesia who married women from there in the last 10 years. Who are Muslim, or attend mosques with radical Imams who have Face Book or twitter accounts; who visit radical web sites or search web sites for homemade explosives or components.”

“Have any of those purchased or attempted to purchase assault weapons. Have any of their neighbors in a half mile circle made unusual weapons purchases. Are they communicating with radicals? Just who are they communicating with and who their friends are? Are the friends on any alert or restricted list? There are dozens of additional questions that should have raised flags. They left a crumb trail with everything they did; it was in the bucket. The individuals I just named did some or all of the above,” I stated.

“Has the PC ‘hands off, you can’t ask this or that’ culture gotten so bad that we now are willing to sacrifice our citizens?” I asked.

“My intel group has no restrictions. They ask every conceivable question to connect the dots and if the dots don’t connect they dig deeper. Somewhere there is something; sometimes it takes luck to find it. The BS is the gibberish and restrictions that gets in the way of useful Intel,” I replied.

“Then you do have an Intel group at JBG,” the Senator replied.

“If you had several thousand employees in 40 countries – soon to be 80 – in security positions, don’t you think an Intel and research group would be appropriate?” I responded.

“I suppose you are right.” Then the Senator closed the session for lunch. Vicky and I were invited to the Senate cafeteria for a taxpayer subsidized lunch. After lunch there would be a special top secret presentation and then a round table to prepare for the news conference to close out the day.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

The lines were gone at the customs check-in; I put all my bags on the counter. “Ambassador, do you have anything to declare, did you buy any antiques, weapons, gold, silver, or jewelry?”

“No sir, I have nothing to declare. I did not buy anything; I came home only with the things I took,” I replied.

“Sign on the line. You’re good to go, I don’t need to look through your bags,” the agent said.

After my bags were loaded we decided on supper at the Seafood Inn where we ate often. I wanted seafood; it has been six weeks since I had any of my favorite dishes.

Jenny had read my mind and already reserved tables for all of us. That was not all she had done. I should have suspected something was up when we walked into the lobby.

The owners were working the reservation counter instead of the hired help. “Ambassador Jones, welcome back, we have been expecting you.

Jenny had rented one of the big rooms for a welcome home party; there was a banner stretched completely across one end, “Welcome home BJ.” It was a good thing I had decided to wear one of the expensive pant suits for the flight home. As tired as I was I put on my best face and played politician and diplomat again.

I walked in to applause and cheering, the huge room was packed. All the VIPs from the college; all of my administrators from the office, all of my family were waiting. There was Frank, Victor, Eric and their families along with the Senators, who I was really surprised to see.

I was even more surprised to see the wimpy triplets there and that they had wives! I wondered who wore the pants when the lights went out.

Duke Justice and Clarence Hallworthy – the county commissioners – along with their wives were there.

There were ‘A’ shaped display stands with 8 x 10 color pictures of my venture. One stand started with the swearing in and departure from Morton Field and the arrival at Entebbe. Each of the pictures had a note attached identifying the people in it. Frank and Victor must have helped identify all the diplomats and VIPs.

There were pictures on the second stand of the first trip to Nimule and the first gala that Gordon and I attended, with plenty of pictures of both events.

The third one was a big one; all the pictures were related to the attack. Some were from the ZNN footage showing explosions and the smoke rising from the embassy grounds and others were from the embassy cameras. They showed the truck bursting through the wall and our response just seconds before the truck exploded and destroyed the cameras.

There were pictures that showed the aftermath, the destroyed trucks and cars and the damage to the walls and our wounded loading onto the chopper. The last picture on that frame was of me before I had a chance to clean up; my clothes were bloody and torn, my face was bleeding and I was still holding an M16; it was taken while I was still on the roof.

Those pictures could have only come from Andy or one of his men. The picture did highlight why my eyes had not been damaged; I was wearing my favorite pair of tinted shooting safety glasses. I did not remember putting them on.

I was standing there looking at the picture a long time when I noticed Frank, Victor and Eric standing beside me.

“That picture is not in any that you sent us. Where did that one come from?” Frank asked.

“I do not know. This is the first time I have seen it; I guess one of my crew took it, but I don’t remember,” I replied and then I added “I do not remember hurting as bad as that looks like it should have,” I said.

After looking at that one I started over looking at the pictures of the attack to make sure there were no pictures that could send me to jail or worse. I would find out where that one came from. All my people were given strict orders about pictures of the attack and aftermath.

The rest of the pictures were of the trips to Nimule and there were a lot of the food and the kids, the hand washing and how to use a spoon. There were also the three additional galas I went to.

The gala at the French Embassy had a stand all its own, and whoever chose the pictures for the stand did not censor them. There were plenty of the waitresses serving the tables, displaying their intimate body parts. There was even more of the dancing, and I was showing some panty in some of the dance moves.

While I was looking at the pictures of the French gala, Ben Smith of the wimpy triplets walked over, “How come I miss all the good parties?”

“I’m not sure it is worth getting shot at to be able to attend one,” I replied.

“You are probably right about that,” he replied.

The girls and I made the rounds to each table while drinks were being served. I gave the waiter my complete order so I could finish being a politician.

The food was soon to come out, so I ordered a dinner wine. The wine glasses were already on the table so I could give a toast to being home.

Ding; ding, “A toast, to friends, family and to being home with them tonight. It was one wild trip and I am glad it is over.”

The meal was fantastic, so was desert and after dinner conversation. All of which made it a lot later getting home than I wanted. When we did, the first place we went was the hot tub. I missed the relaxing heat of the water; we were going to enjoy it tonight.

After the hot water and Jenny’s nipples, I rocked the boys until they were sound asleep in my arms. It felt so good to hold them and watch their little expressions as they slept. Jenny had to take them away to put them in the crib.

We did not have time for our regular orgy in the basement, it was already so late. We settled for a make-out session and a mini orgy in the living room. It was one of those times where a little was all that was needed to satisfy.

Sunday morning I made a big breakfast for my mates for the first time in six weeks. I ended up cooking the eggs twice; the first ones I burnt! It is amazing the little things one forgets. Luckily the girls had plenty of eggs in the refrigerator.

After breakfast there were a thousand things I wanted and needed to do. The first was to go to the airport, look at our newest C130s, uncrate the hardware and drones and then put them away in the armory. It took us an hour to do all of that.

The components for the twenty new devices that Cory had made the girls had already put in the armory. I felt a lot better now that all those things were locked up.

Then we rode Gators over to the super hanger to look at the two new C130s. They were beautiful – still shiny and looked new – even though they were over 10 years old.

We stopped by Lorrie’s office in the terminal building; Lorrie wanted to show me the schedules that had been worked up for all the scheduled freight flights that were to start tomorrow.

Normally we would have talked about these things in our nightly meetings but I had been gone and too busy to sit in on them by VCATS. My five mates had carried on in my absence, as we had planned for in these circumstances.

They had worked hard independently and together to keep everything going smooth. Now they wanted confirmation they had done well. I needed to be careful that they all received the same level of praise.

I looked at the graphs, charts, flight assignments and the schedules with all the other flights. Then there were the maintenance charts that Robbie had put together to get the inspections done on the older C130s.

Then there were charts for getting the 45 Blackhawks assembled, tested, painted and recertified. It was then that I learned the aviation shop had grown by ten more mechanics, based on Robbie’s assessment of the Blackhawks.

Seven were helicopter mechanics and three were C130 mechanics. All were ex Air Force, Army or Marine trained. All the Blackhawks needed to be operational and at 40 different embassies by October 1st. After that there were inspections and annual certifications were needed on all the existing choppers and that needed to be done at the sites.

I thought I would be just too risky to send them out to aviation shops in the local areas, and in some areas there were really no qualified shops to begin with.

Jenny explained how the interviewing and hiring had progressed since I had been gone. Most of the pilots had been given flight tests and hired and were in the process of leaving other jobs.

Vicky had streamlined the training based on the applicants experience level. Some of the groups would be ready in a few weeks, plus the college certifications were in full swing and would be completed before college classes resumed in a month.

Those, along with many of the new security employees with families, were offered low rate financing from Midwest Bank if they wanted to move to the area. The tie-in was that the girls had added a sweetener to come work for us and that was that the families here could come to the office and VCATS with their loved ones in the off hours anywhere in the world.

I now knew why the county commissioners were suddenly hanging so tight and happy. Marcy, with Jason and Jeanna’s prodding, had bought three large housing developments that were in default. As soon as Marcy bought them, years of back taxes were paid.

The developments had been given all the county permits and approvals as much as ten years ago. For some reason, once interest died in a new development, it never seemed to return. New developments were in the realtors’ ad cycles and being pushed very hard. The old ones just grew up in weeds.

Marcy – when it came to money – was a devil in a skirt. She had walked into the bank President’s office with copies of the default and foreclosure paperwork and put them on the President’s desk. Jeanna had it all put together to make impressive reading, “I will give you 30 cents on the dollar on the original loan value.” Then she placed a check on the desk for the full amount, “This offer is only good for thirty minutes. I am a very busy lady.”

When the economy crashed, no lots were sold, no houses were built and the sites went into default. The utilities had been installed in two of them; they even had roads and curbs installed. Now they were overgrown with weeds; it was hard to tell they were housing developments from the pictures Lorrie handed me.

One local bank was holding the paper on all three them. The property had been added to Lorrie’s rental division. Richard Bozman had agreed to oversee the clean-up of the developments by a contractor. Once that was done and the sites looked reasonable, the lots were going to be offered to JBG employees or put on the market.

Bob’s Construction engineering division had put together color brochures of all the standard house plans they built and others to showcase what they could build. HR handed them out with the welcome package.

Ching Lee added that the two new college additions were in the final steps. University of Nevada and the University of Nebraska system, each with 10 more campuses, in another expansion of that division would add 20000 more students under our umbrella to protect and 1000 more employees. The contracts were for 10 years and added stability to that division.

My going away for those six weeks had strengthened the girls managing skills. They had developed a much stronger decision making process and the determination to make things happen. I was proud of them and told them so repeatedly.

After lunch we went to AAGH hospital to see the last three of my men who were still there. I was relieved to hear that they were going to be released tomorrow. They would still need several weeks of physical therapy and then they would be as good as new, they said. We spent three hours with them and their families.

The rest of afternoon was spent with my mates and the babies; hugs, kisses and just holding. The stress I had been under – that I refused to acknowledge – was slowly going away. The hot tub again, wine coolers and little boys made the stress a distant memory.

Another mini orgy with my mates and another night with Jenny in my arms put the final touch on Sunday.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

I slept like a rock until 6, then dressed and finished packing. I could smell breakfast cooking as I made my way to the kitchen. A big old mug of the hot marine coffee finished off breakfast.

I was sending the first group to go meet the plane with the truck, both Suburbans, both limos and everything we were taking back; the people coming from the plane were bringing the truck back to stay.

Andy, his three leaders, Linda, Ellen and Alice and myself were last to go to the plane. Andy and his leaders would stay to get the new people on board and the girls to train the new people on how to use the communications equipment.

I needed to stay to meet with Ambassador Bernardi; we had a lot of things to talk about.

I was called when the plane was 45 minutes out. Andy sent the cars and trucks to the airport.

They were back in a little less than 90 minutes. Bernardi and I spent the hour behind closed doors.

“How did the surgery go? Was it a success story?” I asked with a little smile.

“You can drop that story. I know why you were sent here. I should say ‘volunteered’ to come here; Victor finally filled me in with bits and pieces as best he could two days ago.”

“I was horrified that the intent was to take us as hostages and then kill all of us anyhow. I still don’t know how you found out about the pending attack. Victor said that your people found out about it and alerted the department. Victor said it was top secret and guess I never will know.

“The job has risks and one has to accept that when they take the oath. But what happened here really hit home. I was not sure I wanted to come back; it took some convincing.”

“One night Victor took me and the wife to the Island Seafood Inn; we stopped by your main office on the way to pick up a couple friends of his and his daughters. Vicky gave us the grand tour. What a hidden operation you have going on there. After supper he carried us to the airport – that’s another operation in itself.”

“Anyhow, I need to thank you for all my people who were here with me. We would have all been a foot note in the history book without the things you did.”

“On top of that you made the Kampala embassy look good with the humanitarian effort; I have a lot to live up to on that one. Now I am hearing my wife and I need to take dancing lessons. You impressed a lot of people around here.” Then he added, “For an amateur, you did a damn good job.”

“Thank you, I always try to do my very best,” I replied.

We first walked through the embassy to show Ambassador Bernardi all the changes we had made to his space to accommodate all the extra personnel now assigned here. I also showed him the improved armory we were leaving behind. The serial numbers had been recorded and the paperwork signed by Casey and Caleb, who were taking responsibility for the weapons.

Outside we looked at the flag wall and I explained what its actual purpose was, the chopper landing pad (AKA the tennis court) and the beach volley ball court.

We looked at the repaired east wall and the newly enhanced west wall. Then we looked at the skid steer; it still had the pallet fork attachment on. I told him that I was leaving it to load the truck and trailer to make trips to Nimule and whatever else he could use it for.

Andy and his leaders finished bringing the new arrivals up to speed. Alice, Linda, and Ellen said that they thought they had the girls operating the communications and security room up to speed.

“Well let’s go find out,” I replied.

In the communications room, “Ladies, connect me with Ambassador Furnell at the Khartoum Embassy.” Ambassador Bernardi and I watched as they made all the connections and in a few moments Ambassador Furnell was on screen with us.

“Good morning Ambassador, I wanted to let you know I am leaving Kampala in a few minutes. Kampala is now back in the hands of Ambassador Bernardi. It has been a pleasure to have our frequent chats. I hope to make a visit to see you soon.”

I turned and shook the hand of Ambassador Bernardi, “Welcome back; I officially turn the embassy over to you. Thanks for allowing me to sit behind your desk for a while,” I said.

A check of the rooms to make sure I had left nothing and the two Suburbans carried the rest of us to Entebbe International Airport.

Fourteen hours later we were in the landing pattern at Morton Field. It was 6 PM Saturday evening. I was looking forward to quiet time in the hot tub with my mates.

The 787 was turned and pulled to a stop in front of the terminal building. We had to wait for the portable stairs to disembark the aircraft. While we were waiting I made an announcement, “You have two weeks off with pay. There are cars and motel rooms available if you need one. Then back here to be trainers. Be careful and please do not answer any media questions.”

I waited as my men and ladies went first. I shook each hand and thanked them. Then I grabbed my portable office and my one carry on bag and descended the stairs into a media and family frenzy.

The State Department – in its afternoon briefing – had made a statement that Ambassador Bernardi returned to his post and I was returning home today. The spokesperson gave the estimated time as an answer to a news person’s question.

At the bottom of the steps I was mobbed by my mates and family. Our hugs, kisses and tears were broadcast on TV; they were not just pecks on the cheeks from my mates but full on-mouth full of passion, toe curling and girl you are in for it later.

Jenny gathered the boys from the Mom-Moms and handed both of them to me at the same time. I backed and sat on the stairs so I could hug and kiss both of them; I had tears running down my face. They had grown so much in just six weeks. It was good to be home.

It was time to face the music. I gave the babies back to Jenny and went to face the cameras.

“It’s great to be home. I am going to miss all the new friends I made in Kampala. I was sent there to learn. I learned far more than I ever could have imagined.”

“I have been told that my visits to Nimule Refugee Camp have been widely broadcast in the local media. JBG will continue to support The Doctors With out Borders Group. In that effort JBG will place a collection box for clothing, shoes and canned foods. In addition to the box, there will be a cash collection container. JBG will match all cash donations.”

“I know you have questions but I will only take a few; between the 7 hour time zone change and the 14 hours on the plane, I am ready for some down time.

Hanna stepped up first, “BJ, the Senate and House are investigating the attack – are you going to testify now that you are back?”

“I have been subpoenaed to testify for four days before the Senate and House committees starting on Monday.”

“BJ, your six weeks as Ambassador is up; was the cross-training a success?”

“There has been a change, I shall officially remain an Ambassador until the investigation is officially closed and sealed. Yes, the cross-training was a success in my book,” I replied.

I could tell the girls did not like that response but it is what it is.

The ZNN reporter tried to ask questions about the attack.

“I cannot answer any questions about the attack due to the Hill investigation,” I replied.

“I have been told that only two of my men who were injured are still in the hospital and they are expected to be released in the next two or three days. I am sad that they were hurt under my watch and I intend to meet with them and their families as soon as tomorrow.”

All of our bags had been unloaded; the guys and gals were in line for the customs officials to take a look at everything. The crates with the drones and all the computers and controllers went out the freight doors on other side of the plane and into our hanger by forklift. There were too many eyes for them to be run through customs.

I went back into the plane to make sure no one left anything in the overhead storage. I gave the pilot permission to leave Morton; he had a short flight to Andrews Air Force base. Big Bertha pulled the 787 away from the terminal and to the runway. A few minutes later the engines went full throttle, lifting the huge jet into the night sky.

There were still several media people walking around, talking with my team. My men and ladies were only answering general questions. I heard more than one tell the ZNN reporter that they had signed confidentiality statements when they were hired and that any questions they had should be directed to our public relations department.

While we waited I played catch up with my family. I was glad I could touch and talk and soon hold them; it was truly good to be home.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.